you just might make me believe
by emmaswanskillian
Summary: "'I don't even know what love is other than my parents, and maybe... maybe that's not what I want,'she whispers, the words feeling like a betrayal. She shouldn't say such things, especially to a man who, less than a month ago, was a face without a name, simply a sailor that she was fascinated by and liked to watch when he docked at the shore near her home." Lieutenant Duckling.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So I've been working on this for a little bit and I figured I'd go ahead and post the first chapter and see what people think. While I've been playing with writing Captain Swan for quite some time, this is only my second or third attempt at Lieutenant Duckling, and it's the first full length, multichapter fic I've tried. Regina is mentioned, but for story purposes, I'm pretending that maybe Bae and Rumple are living happily somewhere, with Milah, or whatever, but Rumplestiltskin will not be in the story. Also, not sure if there is certain qualifications for LD, but I think this goes outside of them a little. **

* * *

Running away doesn't _actually_ ever solve anything, but it never stops Emma Nolan from doing it.

_It's only five minutes_, she always tells herself, but as soon as the air outside of the secluded castle touches her skin, she knows it will be much longer before she comes back. There is always something she's neglecting when she runs, a duty that needs to be fulfilled that she puts off for another day. As time goes on, she finds that she cares less and less.

She's barely nineteen years of age, after all, and her parents can still handle everything themselves. All she wants to do is get away from the stress of learning to rule a kingdom, no matter how fleeting the time may be. So, she grabs one of the few dresses she owns that doesn't scream "_I am a royal_" to every passerby and slips out the back door (She long ago made friends with a guard who looks the other way), a sigh escaping her as soon as she is no longer trapped within the palace walls. The structure stands much too tall, a cage designed to trick those inside into believing that it is nothing of the sort. There are hallways with enough twists and turns (and twists and turns and twists and turns) to make one think they will never escape.

Emma always finds a way.

She _has_ to.

Deciding where to go once she's out never seems to be an issue. She just lets her feet roam whatever direction they may be taking her for the day, without questioning their path. Some days she'll simply travel around the forest near her home, just far enough away that she doesn't actually see it. Her hands will run over the bark of the trees as she walks, and sometimes she'll settle down with her back to one of the larger ones, resting her head against the wood and just breathing. Other days, she'll go farther - into the town where she can lose herself in the masses of people or to the shore, where the sea always seems tantalizing, calling to her though she has never touched farther than where the water crashes onto the sand.

Her adventures are never permanent, of course. She always finds her way back to where she knows she should be, with the same irritations and problems waiting for her. It isn't as if she doesn't expect it. Emma is very well aware that nothing is fixed by her taking off whenever she pleases.

Even so, there isn't a single part of her that ever wants to stop.

* * *

Emma rolls her eyes as she walks out the door, barely able to hear her mother calling for her. She can just see the queen now, her head in her hands as her husband comforts her. What are they to do with their wayward daughter who does not handle her responsibilities seriously? How are they to reign in her wild streak before it becomes an irreversible problem? Will she ever be ready to rule over an entire kingdom?

_Please_. It's not as if they are going anywhere and the kingdom has rarely seen issues since Regina, her mother's stepmother and the land's resident sorceress, had been locked up where she could no longer do harm.

The air is calming, as usual, and Emma breathes a sigh of relief as her body relaxes, all worries of her mother and father disappearing with a soft brush of the wind. Her parents are famous throughout the land, their ability to rule seamlessly almost as well known as their incredible story. Finding True Love always comes with hype, as rare as it seems to be. Her parents always tell her that one day, she'll find hers, too.

"And once you find it, it can never be replaced," her father always says, her mother nodding fervently in agreement as she smiles at her husband.

She ignores their looks of despair (Or is it disappointment? Or both?) when she never takes their words earnestly. It's much easier that way, to pretend that she does not see their reactions. It at least helps her to sleep better at night, acting as if she isn't breaking their hearts with her disbelief.

It isn't their love she doubts, of course. The chance of her discovering her own is what she finds difficult to have confidence in.

The sea calls to her today, and she finds herself at the docks, her eyes casually scanning the people bustling about there. A few she recognizes - locals that she often sees throughout the kingdom. Others are visitors, simply passing through on their way to wherever it is they are going.

Emma aches to know where they go and where they have been. She longs to see the places that the ships sitting in the harbor have touched.

With a practiced stealth that she's gained over the years, she easily avoids those who may recognize her face as she makes her way closer to where the ships are anchored. One stands tall above the rest, the sails wide as if filled with pride, and Emma knows it has seen more wonders than she can ever imagine.

It is not that she is unhappy where she is. At the end of the day, she does love her parents and the land that they call their own. One day, she will take up her role as queen. When the time comes, she'll accept the responsibility given to her and do her best to take care of the kingdom that she was born and raised in. However, she doesn't see that day as being something in the near future.

Part of her hates that she craves to see _more_, to know more than she's been taught here. There is so much that she does not understand, so many places she has never been, so much that she has never seen.

Sometimes she feels terrible that she thinks this way, and it usually takes a lot of convincing before she can tell herself that her craving for more is not ungratefulness, but even then sometimes she still feels regret nestled deep in her heart.

One day, she swears she'll make it all up to them.

She just wishes for a little adventure, something that will keep her up at night thinking about it. She longs for a feat that makes her heart race and her blood run hot. Her entire being wants to explore and be free, even if that means that her life becomes a little absurd.

Part of her desires that, too.

Most days, it even feels normal. Shouldn't all people go through a time like that in their lives?

Taking a deep inhale of the saltiness in the breeze, Emma smiles, closing her eyes for only the briefest of moments. The air moves around her and blows her long hair around her face, a sigh of content escaping her. Upon reopening, her eyes trail over to where a young girl walks with her mother, not a single care to burden them. When she glances back at the ship that had captured her attention earlier, her eyes catch something else that demands notice.

It's a man, boarding the vessel with a subtle confidence in his shoulders that she just can recognize from where she stands. His dark hair is blowing about in the wind, and even with the distance between them, Emma is captivated by the unmistakable blue of his eyes. She thinks that no amount of distance could hide their beauty.

The uniform he wears is most certainly that of the navy, but not of the land where he is docked. _He must be from somewhere else_, Emma deducts, tilting her head and watching as he bustles about on board the ship, disappearing below deck every minute or so, making sure everything is prepped and ready to set sail.

She can't help but wonder where it is he's going and where he came from.

Finally, the man puts his hands on the railing of the ship, glancing out at the shore. His eyes find hers, and though warmth creeps up her neck and into her cheeks, she cannot look away from the depth of his expression. Another man approaches him, looking far too much like the first man not to be his brother. _Older_, Emma guesses as the first blue eyed stranger smiles at the new gentleman, pointing to various parts of the ship as he speaks.

The man's older brother nods and caps his younger sibling on the shoulder, beaming with pride that is well accepted. Emma can't help the smile that pulls up her lips at the picture, and when the two men begin to walk away from the edge of the vessel facing her, the one she'd first noticed takes a glance back at her. The corners of his lips tug up slightly as he looks at her, and her heart jumps, beating erratically until he finally turns his attention back to his brother.

Something pulls in Emma's chest so strongly that it almost is painful, but she sighs as the ship starts to pull away from the harbor. She lets herself watch it go, her stomach twisting as it does, before beginning her trek back home.

She assumes she'll never see the mysterious man who so intensely fascinated her again.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Emma whispers into thick air, struggling to take in a breath. She loathes confrontations like this, knowing they never end well. "I don't want to disappoint you. I just... I do not know if I'm ready for... all of this yet."

"Emma, you're nineteen-"

"So?" Emma interrupts her father, and though he seems taken back, he does not stop her now. "That is not very old, father. I do what I must, but I... I am not quite ready to rule over an entire kingdom. You and mother are still doing well and I do not see why I need as much responsibility as you try to give me."

There's a silence that stretches, every second of it feeling like ages passing. _Please understand_, her mind pleads as she tries to keep her composure. "I suppose I can understand where you are coming from." Snow puts her head in her hand, kneading her temples as her husband speaks. "However, you must understand that one day, this land will be yours to protect and govern. Your mother and I are only attempting to make the transition less drastic."

A piece of Emma's resolve gives way and she sighs, walking over to her parents to press kisses to both of their cheeks. "I appreciate your efforts, but I believe that it should be at least partially my decision the rate at which I take up power in the kingdom. At the moment, I feel as if you are trying to grant more than I can handle. I will take up the throne when the time comes, and I will do everything I must, but I do believe that time is near yet."

Another pause, and then, as if attached to the same strings, her parents nod simultaneously. Emma knows that they are still upset, but for now, their understanding is enough.

Even so, ten minutes later, the road is beneath her feet, leaves scattering across the dirt as a result of autumn weather. A few crunch under her feet and she smiles at the sound, looking up as she inhales deeply. Trees form a roof above her that feels much more free than the confines of the castle's top, which is as tall but not nearly as open.

She finds herself near the docks at the end of her journey, breathing in saltwater tinged air and wishing she had the strength to climb on one of the boats in the distance and run away for good. She knows she cannot do that, however, and so she settles for letting her eyes scan the ships and people, making up stories in her head for each group she sees. In the midst of playing her little game with herself, something catches her eye in one of the bars as she passes by. Her heart jumps into her throat as she recognizes the figure that she's seen many times in dreams, both at night and during the day.

His dark hair is a bit longer now, about two months worth of growing making her wonder how it would feel to run her fingers through the locks. His brother sits beside him, and Emma finds herself leaning against one of the railings outside, watching his movements.

His brother offers him a sip of a brown colored beverage, and with one sip the lieutenant's face pinches up and he coughs. It makes Emma laugh to see that he's not accustomed to the burn of alcohol. She's barely drank herself, only being able to do so at grand dinners where it is served to nearly everyone, so she understands.

Her curiosity almost gets the better of her and she nearly takes a step into the doors, but then she sees a good friend of her father's stand to leave and she runs to the side of the building, staying there until she's sure he has passed.

A few moments later, the man she was watching exits, laughing and walking just a bit sloppily. She assumes his brother must have gotten a little more into him after she walked away. His brother wraps an arm around him and supports some of his weight, looking as though he would rather lose his own life than let his brother fall.

(She thinks he says "Let's go get you some rest, aye brother?")

As they walk away, Emma observes them, her interest peaking when the man smiles, the expression lighting up his features. He's striking, from the dazzling blue of his eyes (_Is that even a real color?) _to the defined jaw line that leads to a softer chin (She wants to run her thumb over it to see how it would feel beneath her fingertip), just below his lips that practically begged to be kissed. Emma wonders if he has been kissed too much, or just enough, or an inadequate amount. She _aches_ to know what it would be like to kiss him, to be held close by those arms that look so strong (_but not too strong, either_). Her experience is limited to a few stolen kisses throughout the years, none of them mattering much as she looks back on them. This man is older, and it makes her curious to know if his lips would taste as sweet as they look.

Her heart beats loudly in her chest as he climbs onto his ship, and there's a small part of her that wonders if the organ would chant his name if she knew what it was.

* * *

It turns into a game that Emma loves to play, sneaking away on random days and hoping that she'll see her mysterious Lieutenant's ship by the shore. She recognizes it by heart now and knows if it's there as soon as she sees the docks. Some days he's there and she watches him from afar, memorizing how he laughs, how he smiles when his brother compliments him. She learns his brother's name - Liam - but his remains unknown to her, no matter how closely she listens for it to be spoken.

There are days when she does not see the vessel anchored there, and she swears her heart drops so low in her stomach that it will never return to its original position. It never stops her from taking in the sea, her love for it only growing every time she visits. Each trip, she lets her eyes scan the horizon and wonder how far away it is until the water once again touches land.

There are days she wishes she could find the nerve to talk to her evasive Lieutenant, wishes she had the braveness that her mother always portrays. She never gets too close, though, even though she wants to do so more than she wants anything. He fascinates her, with his deep expressions and open eyes. She wants to know his story, desires to know all the places he's been and all the wonders he's seen. Her entire being is immensely curious about him even though she has never spoken to him.

Her parents would say she is ridiculous if they knew, she's certain.

One day while she's watching, a little boy bumps into him while walking and the man leans down to eye level with the child, giving him a smile and a gentle warning to be careful before ruffling his hair and continuing on his way. It's endearing, far more so than Emma had expected, even though at the same time, she cannot find it in her to be immensely surprised. She recognizes the softness in this man, and though he's had an argument or two with his brother that she's seen, the lines in his face never grow too harsh.

She cannot quite comprehend how the feat is possible. Perhaps she just has not seen him at his worst.

He is a puzzle that she yearns to solve, and she wonders if knowing all the answers she longs for would quench the interest that she has for him.

Weeks go by, and every time she sees him it makes her blood run just a little faster. It always ends, however. Either he climbs back onto his ship and sails away, or she is forced to return home with the setting of the sun. When night falls and she's once again safely tucked into her extravagant bed, she stares up at the ceiling and thinks of where he may be, how long it will be until he finds himself back near her. She never quite understands how she can miss a man when she does not even know his name, but yet, each time he disappears from her view, he inhabits her thoughts consistently while she wishes and waits for the next time he returns.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry this took so long- I had my wisdom teeth taken out on the 24th and that's kept me from spending a lot of time writing, believe it or not. Anyway, thanks to all who read, reviewed, favorited, and followed- you rock and all :)

* * *

"We will not be here long, Emma. We simply need to meet this merchant and then we will return home. Small steps, remember? You _did_ agree to this."

Emma sighs heavily, tilting her head at her mother, who only smiles pleasantly. _Of course she does_.

There is, Emma decides, such an occurrence as being _too_ pleasant.

The familiar smell of the sea does little to soothe her nerves, and she hopes that being forced to accompany her parents like this will not make the place less comforting in the future. She would hate if they ruined her favorite getaway place. Almost automatically, her eyes scan the shore as they approach, and her heart nearly jumps through her throat when she sees _his_ ship, sitting magnificently in the harbor. She feels the all too well known pull toward it, her blood rushing through her veins at a rate that certainly is not safe.

Thankfully, her parents don't notice her lapse in step as she fumbles for a moment, and she recovers quickly.

Her eyes search for his dark hair and uniform out of habit, scanning the crowd for even a peak of him. He doesn't appear to be in sight, however, and another sigh escapes her as she falls back into pace with her parents.

_Just her luck_.

"That is quite a ship, isn't it?" her father asks, and Emma looks back at it almost immediately, smiling. _Of course he would notice_. _Who wouldn't_?

"It is," she tells him, playing with a button on her dress and trying to remain casual. "Do... do you recognize it?"

Her father appraises the vessel again, pursing his lips for a moment. "Afraid not, dear, other than knowing it docks here often in its travels. I do believe I have seen it a few times, but I don't believe I've dealt with the owners before."

She hadn't gotten her hopes up too high, but Emma still feels herself deflate just the slightest. The man they meet is docked a few ships over from the one that she rarely can take her eyes off of, though she still smiles politely at him as he is introduced and waits patiently for him to talk to her father and mother. She knows she should be listening, but she does nothing of the sort, only looking back to the conversation when she hears parting words.

"It has been a pleasure," she says, sounding much too sweet to her own ears. Her parents smile widely at her, though, and she knows she's done right. It's so easy to please them, she doesn't have to try too hard.

As they walk back along the docks toward the road, Emma sees him at the exact same moment he sees her. Recognition flashes across his features and it makes her heart jump. It's suddenly much too difficult to swallow and she is aware the ability would return if she would look away, but she keeps her eyes locked on his instead. He smiles, a tiny, timid upward turning up his lips as he appraises her just as earnestly.

Emma can feel the warmth in her cheeks and knows she must be blushing, so she finally tears her gaze away from him to catch her breath. When someone sees her father and strikes up a conversation, she glances back over briefly. He's not far away now - she could be by his side in three or four strides. Even though she has to turn to the exchange with her parents and pretend to be interested, she can still feel the heat of his stare, burning a hole into her head with the intensity of it.

Her heart is pounding so strongly, she's shocked that her mother does not hear it from where she stands just beside her, the beating of it ringing in her ears with every pulse. She tries to focus on what's happening, forcing herself not to look back over at her stranger no matter how much curiosity tries to turn her head.

However, when she hears his voice, she fails.

It's only to hear him call out his brother's name, but she recognizes the sound. He's only a few feet away from her and it's the clearest she's ever heard him speak. His voice is low and somewhat husky, but not enough to make him seem impossibly gruff. It manages to have a lightness to it as well, in a way that she cannot quite explain. The tone he speaks with is modulated, clear and concise in a way that she is certain comes from being a navy officer. He has a lifting accent that she finds addicting, and as he begins a conversation with his brother, she forgets whatever her parents were speaking of and refocuses to listen to him.

"There has been talk of a storm that was brewing when some men in the tavern came in earlier. I am certain it has only grown since. We shall stay in the town tonight and set sail tomorrow morning instead." The brother has a very formal voice as well, though his is firmer and deeper than his brother's.

"Very well," her Lieutenant responds (_Did his eyes just flick in her direction?_). "I suppose I can busy myself to pass the time until then."

"I am sure you will find something, brother. This area is a rather nice one and there is much to be seen and done." Emma tilts her head. _Do they never stay long enough to enjoy themselves? _she wonders, feeling a quick rush of sadness for the man, a brief flutter of sympathy. However, it flees when she remembers that he has probably seen much more exotic and fascinating than her small little kingdom, off by itself.

The two men nod at each other before parting ways, but just as her Lieutenant is about to disappear around the corner, he looks back at her and smiles. His eyes sparkle with something resembling mischief (_and oh, how that makes her heart skip_), and his raised eyebrow just as he turns away makes her head spin.

And somehow she reads his expression as if it were written before her in crisp handwriting, and knows with a shocking clarity that he wants her to return to him. Has he noticed her even half of the times that she's noticed him? Does he know the fascination that she holds?

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and tries to steady herself, already planning exactly how to get herself outside of the castle as soon as they return to it.

* * *

"Is that where Snow White and her prince live?"

"I believe so, yes. Their story is quite magnificent. Have you ever heard the entirety of it?"

"Do tell."

It almost makes Emma turn around and go back home. She hates hearing people talk about her parents as if they are legends only told of by the most experienced of travelers. First of all, it always irritates her that something in the tale always gets shifted or misinterpreted or reshaped. Second, they _are_ her parents, and she always finds herself irrationally angry when they are talked of like such grand beings. They're just her parents, not something to be put on display and discussed like a rare wonder that should be put on display for all the realms to see.

Most of all, however, she hates being reminded just how _true_ their love is. It's wonderful for her that she knows they will never part, of course, but carrying a weight like having parents who are True Love is a burden she doesn't wish to bear. When she lets herself think about it long enough, she knows that her parents being who they are and what they are is what makes her so terrified of love itself. Flirtation is nothing to stress over. Minor feelings rarely pose a threat to anything.

When it comes down to serious emotion, however, she is not sure if she wants to find someone to love so strongly. With parents who have broken curses with nothing but a kiss, only a brief touch of their lips, is there even a point to searching? She is deathly afraid that anything she discovers will not add up to what they have, that even if she falls in love, she will never have the purity and power that her parents possess simply by loving each other as they do.

She has grown up surrounded by it and she knows all too well what a love like theirs looks like and everything that comes along with it. The world and all the stars in every realm have to align perfectly for True Love to be created, and the odds of finding it herself seem impossibly slim.

So, as soon as she hears the people on the path pass her talking of her parents, she stops and sighs. She almost turns around, almost gives up on even the idea of knowing what his name is and everything else about him that she can figure out. Chances are not worth getting hurt over, are they? Is the possibility of him (of being in love or anything resembling it) worth taking such a risk as this one?

One foot has already turned back in the direction of the castle when she sees his face clearly in her mind, his shocking blue eyes and soft features. Her head has nearly yanked her back to the comfort of her home when she hears his voice echo in the confines of her brain, soft and everything that a voice should be. There is a battle for the briefest of moments, though it feels like a lifetime that she stands there on the path, one foot pointed toward home and one pointed toward him.

And then she turns both of her feet in the direction of the shore and walks.

* * *

She finds him easily, knowing exactly what she needs to look for. It takes her a moment to pinpoint why the place that he's standing feels achingly familiar, but then she realizes it's the very spot she was at when she saw him the first time. He's waiting for her in the place where she first locked eyes with him.

So he _had_ truly noticed her.

Her nerves jump, tingling with electricity (he will surely be the death of her, this beautiful stranger) that makes it hard to think and breathe. This is not smart. She should not be meeting a random stranger on a whim of emotion.

(It does _not_ matter that he is fetchingly handsome and has a voice that should be considered a crime.)

Leaving before she takes another step would be the best option.

He turns, seeing her, and he tilts his head, the expression endearing even with the smirk that is playing up his features. "Come here often?" he asks, and Emma swears her heart _stops_.

It takes her a moment as she struggles to act with as much normality as possible. He smiles at her, though, and some of her tension falls away. She grins, taking a step closer. "Actually, I do."

A small laugh escapes him, the sound shaking her to her core just a little. "That is rather interesting, love, because I do, as well. I have noticed you on a few of those occasions."

Unsure of how to respond, Emma waits, trying to think of anything that would ease the tension of strangeness lingering between them. After a moment, he shrugs and closes the distance between them, offering her his hand. "Killian Jones, Navy officer of the kingdom just to the west of here."

_Killian_.

The name flows through her ear and rattles around in her brain, echoing beautifully and sounding like a key sliding into the lock where it belongs, settling and clicking in all the ways it should before it turns and opens a door.

His name is Killian.

Somehow, she manages to let him take her hand in his and press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "Emma Nolan," she responds, trying not to focus on how warm his lips are and the invisible imprint they leave in her skin.

"As in, the daughter of the king and queen of this land?" His eyebrow quirks, and she wonders how he had not yet noticed that detail.

"Yes," she tells him, laughing just a little. Her nerves are _everywhere_, jumping and jerking every time he speaks. Or blinks. "But I pray you will not hold that against me."

He finally lets her hand go, and it falls to her side as if it is not sure what it should do anymore now that it is no longer held by him. "I would not dream of it, m'lady."

It is the same response she always gets, no matter who the person or what the circumstance. The only difference between those who fawn her over her anyway and this man, _Killian_, is that she can see the honesty burning in his eyes and believes him.

She wonders if he simply has that effect on people.

"Thank you." There's a moment where her chest constricts as she searches her brain for something to say to fill the sudden void in conversation. Though it would appear he's most certainly known of her presence on many of her outings, she feels as if outright giving away the fact would be strange.

As if their current predicament was not already strange enough.

"I am actually surprised you did not recognize me. Most people do." It's the only thing she can think to say and it falls flat, even though he still smiles just a little.

It's enough to at least make her feel a little less incompetent.

"I only deal closely with a few of the merchants near the shore, and if not doing that I'm taking military inventory or handling treaties with other military personnel or the like. Rarely do I find myself crossing paths directly with royals," he explains, his gaze finding the sea as he speaks.

"Oh," is the only sound that gets past her throat before she gets caught up in admiring his profile, from the soft point of his nose to his slim lips to the defined jaw that holds it all together. He catches her eye and she quickly averts her gaze, watching the waves crash onto the shore for a moment before turning back to him. Without being able to help herself, she blurts, "Have you seen many lands and realms?"

He chuckles slightly. _Idiotic girl_, she chastises mentally. "A few, yes."

Somehow, she can tell he's only being modest. "Tell me of one?"

"How about I tell you a story." There's a glint in his eyes. "And you tell me one."

"Deal," she says quickly, so desperate to hear of his adventures. She smiles, gesturing to the wooden table not too far from them. They sit down and she crosses her hands on the top, raising an eyebrow and waiting.

"There's one land a few day's journey from here, called Arendelle. When I travelled there, the king and queen of the realm had just died while travelling to another land. I wasn't informed of the reason they had been sailing," he begins, leaning forward as if the information is full of conspiracy. Emma's blood runs just a little faster and she finds herself drawn a little across the table as well. "That is not the strangest occurrence, however. Apparently, the doors of the castle there have been closed off to the rest of the kingdom for over ten years. Not a single soul I asked had a legitimate reason as to why there is no traffic to the castle, only that years ago the king and queen had closed every opening to the outside world and gotten rid of nearly all of their staff. The actions were never undone. Every once in a while, the people would see the king and queen when they had business to attend to, and on very rare occasions the youngest daughter would be seen by the luckiest of spectators, but that's all."

Emma tilts her head at him. "That's so strange," she muses, a smile tugging up the corners of her lips, her mind running wild with the possibilities of the stories this man could tell her.

"Your turn," he says, and she rolls her eyes a little before racking her brain to search for a safe tale.

"Okay." She purses her lips for a moment. "Once when I was younger, about fifteen, my parents took me to town with them. It was one of the first times I went with them in order to start learning who people were in the kingdom. Mischievousness has always been wired into me, however, and so the moment they turned their backs to talk with one of the marketers, I ran off. I was far into the woods before they noticed my absence, and I winded up walking around in the forest for a while until I finally went home on my own."

"And what all did you do during that time? Simply walk?" Killian asks, and she swears he should not be this intrigued by her measly tale.

She shrugs, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed for some reason. "Yes, actually. I just... I went and saw how many of the... plants I could identify, and how many birds that I knew and... just walked." She purses her lips and looks down, away from his deep eyes that see much more than any other pair have ever seemed to. "It's absurd, I know, but-"

"No, not at all, love." And he's serious, so _unbelievably_ serious that she's sure he's simply playing a game. "Running away, or wanting to, is fairly normal, from what I understand."

"Did you ever want to run away?" she asks, looking back up at him. His answering smile is dazzling, lighting up the area around them and she can't seem to tear her eyes away from him.

"Of course," he says easily, and there's a twinkle in his eye. She knows he's telling the truth, and the corners of her lips tilt up as well.

"Tell me of your running away story, then," she requests, but she can see just as he can that the sun is setting. The way he's looking at her lets her know that he's aware she has to go.

And she _hates_ it.

"Another time," he tells her, his smile never faltering.

It's silly, and she knows that it is, but she suddenly feels a rush of panic that she won't ever see him again. She wants to, more than anything, so when they get up, she goes to stand in front of him, keeping her face as firm as possible. "Promise?"

His tongue runs along his bottom lip and her veins buzz with the feeling of standing so close to him, like a lightning strike is being pumped through her body with every heartbeat in the place of her blood. A breeze blows some of his hair in his face, but he shakes the strands out of his eyes. Giving her a smile that would turn the most faithful of women away from their commitments (even if just for a moment), takes her hand in his and brings it up to his lips. His kiss is warm despite the cooling evening air, and it makes goosebumps rise on her flesh.

"I swear to you, Princess. The next time I'm in this land, I'm sure our paths will cross, and I will tell you another story in exchange for another one of your own. Does that sound alright to you?" The thrill intensifies, making it difficult for her to force air in and out of her lungs. He's still holding on to her hand, his thumb brushing against her knuckles.

She knows this isn't the smartest of decisions. She can hear her mother's voice so clearly in her head, telling her to always "Be kind, but cautious." Perhaps she would, if his touch didn't make her feel as though her entire body were alight with flames. Maybe she would heed her mother's advice, if his voice didn't sound so beautiful to her ears. She doesn't want to think of never hearing it again.

Besides, isn't this what she's ached so long to have? Something to make her heart beat faster, to give her a sense of adventure past the very little she's experienced in her life? It would be a shame to dream for so long and then not take the one chance she gets for even a sliver of what she's longed for.

"Yes," she whispers, and she's not quite sure why her voice comes out so quiet, so hushed, as if she's afraid the moment will shatter if she makes one wrong move. "I would like that very much."


	3. Chapter 3

I wanted to get this posted before I start back to school tomorrow and cease to have much of a life. 3

* * *

Emma doesn't see Killian for a few days.

It is not for lack of trying, of course. Day after day, each day that she gets the chance, she finds herself at the shore looking for the silhouette of his ship against the horizon. Her mother is starting to seriously worry about her wayward daughter, but Emma pretends not to hear her mother's distressed voice when she starts to speak of where she went wrong.

Emma thinks she's only being dramatic.

At least, she lets herself think that in order to make herself feel a little less guilty.

(But just a little.)

It's just over a week later when she finally feels the weight of disappointment lifted off of her shoulders. She sees his ship before she even sees the shore itself, the shape and color of it so burned into her memory that she recognizes it immediately. Her heart starts pounding, rushing blood through her veins at a pace she's certain is not safe. When she sees him, she smiles so wide it hurts her cheeks. As if sensing her, he turns his head from where he stands on the dock and catches her eye. His eyes widen and a grin splits his features before he starts heading her way.

"Emma," he says as he approaches, and the way he says her name makes a thrill rush through her. "I was hoping you would be here."

"You were?" she stammers out, playing absentmindedly with a button on her dress.

His cheeks flush (she's sure they match her own) and he purses his lips, taking a deep breath before smiling. "I was." Everything in her is singing, and she swears that her heart will never function normally again. "However, I do have some business to attend to at the current moment." Before she can deflate from his words, he reaches out to take her hand in his. "Decide on a place for us to meet in an hour. Anywhere you want, I'll be there."

Emma takes only a moment, and then she nods. "If you follow the road to the North of where your ship is docked, you'll come across a tree with very low hanging branches on your right. The leaves are dark green, the darkest I have ever seen. The trunk is thick and it isn't very tall. If you'll look on the opposite side of the road from there, you'll find a small path. It leads to the river, where there is a bench made of several stones. Meet me there."

His palm closes tightly around hers for the briefest of moments. "I will, love."

And then he's gone, leaving her fingers tingling where his own just were.

* * *

With nowhere else to be and nothing else to do, she gets to the spot within ten minutes of leaving the shore, sitting down on one of the stones and watching the way the water in the river flows. If she looks closely, she just can see fish swimming underneath the surface. She grabs a small rock and tosses it into the water, focusing on how the waves ripple out from the spot.

Her parents always tell their story, of how when they first met, Snow had hit her father with a stone to escape him after trying to steal a piece of jewelry. In any other story, after he got the ring back, they would have parted ways and never seen each other again. However, like the ripples from a rock falling in a river, one event started another, which led to another, and somehow, they winded up getting married and being the rulers of the Enchanted Forest.

It's an insane ripple effect, and it's the one she carries around just over her shoulder.

She hasn't figured out yet if that's positive or not.

Regardless, her parents are happy and forever flaunting their True Love, and she thinks sometimes that the phrase should be shouted every time it's spoken, written out in the largest letters possible. At least, that's how they act. Meanwhile, she's fawning over a Lieutenant that she's talked to all of two times for just the chance to feel a fraction of what her parents seem to have.

She may get tired of hearing about it, but at the same time, she always wonders how it feels to love so deeply and to be loved so much in return. Nearly constantly, she questions whether or not it's even worth the attempt to find such affection. Is True Love, all large letters and yelled out for the world to hear, a common occurrence? Or is she doomed to forever live in the shadows of her parents, never to find it for herself?

And then, there's another part of her that, as much as she may love her parents, doesn't yearn for what they have at all. The love they share is safe, tucked neatly into a large castle with looming gray walls and doors so heavy it's a feat simply to open them. Their love is collected and calm, floating along the tamest of rivers at a slow, steady pace.

She hates herself for thinking it, but it's a rather tedious romance, and that is not what her heart desires. The strength of the love they feel for each other is admirable, but perhaps she yearns for love of a different timbre. Though she shares her mother's nose and heart, the contrasts between them stretch far and wide.

Time passes while she thinks, staring so intently into the water as if it will give her the innumerable wishes that she craves despite her not even knowing what all of them are, all the answers that she seeks even though she may not yet know the questions. When a hand touches her shoulder, she nearly jumps out of her skin.

"Killian." His name falls past her lips in a rush, and she immediately loves the way it sounds.

"I am truly sorry. It was not my intention to frighten you," he says, giving her a small smile.

It takes her much too long to respond, caught up in the way his eyes look reflecting the water in front of him and the way his dark hair looks against the background of an emerald green forest. "No," she finally manages, giving him a smile that she's sure is completely without grace. "I was just thinking. It is not your fault."

"What were you thinking of, Princess?" he asks casually as he takes a seat beside her, and she _almost_ tells him. It feels as if it would be easy to simply spill all her thoughts, insecurities, and fears. She figures that it must be the way he looks at her, so open, as if he would take in every single problem and hold it close like each were his own.

And then never tell a soul.

"Just... daydreaming," she says instead, her stomach loosening a few of the knots it had formed.

He hums in response, tilting his head at her, and somehow she knows he doesn't believe her. Regardless, he simply nods and puts his gaze on the river for the longest of moments until he looks over at her. "So, story?"

It's effortless to fall into talking with him. He tells her of an island he'd been to with legend of a horrible monster that could easily wipe out armies. She listens with intent, asking questions every few minutes for clarification or teasing purposes. His story is full of everything she wants to know and everything she craves - action, adventure, a little bit of danger - and he plays it up so well that she finds herself leaning toward him. His words are grand and he speaks in such a way that Emma tucks away in her memory how each syllable sounds as it falls past his lips. She may not know what she wants from him and she may not ever experience what it feels like to love a person as her parents do, but his voice is easy enough to fall in love with. Each word only draws her closer to him, and, as a result, by the time he finishes telling of his very brief and minor brush with the beast where he barely escaped with his life, she's so close that she could kiss him if she wanted.

And she wants to, more than she's ever wanted anything. She wonders how his lips would taste, how his hair would feel beneath her fingertips. His eyes bore into hers as she smiles, saying something about how interesting his story is, and it would be so easy to close the space between them.

But she barely knows the man, and she should not be thinking of kissing someone who is somewhere between being a stranger and being an acquaintance. So, despite the strong desire to capture his lips in hers, she leans back enough to give herself air to breathe.

Something flashes in his eyes, bright and burning, and she knows that he was thinking of kissing her just as heavily as she was thinking of kissing him.

And it only makes her want to kiss him more.

* * *

They take turns throwing stones into the river for a moment, and then he smiles without looking at her. "I do believe it's your turn, Emma."

She sighs, already feeling the sting of not knowing what to say. "I'm very afraid, Killian, that if we continue this little game of ours, I will run out of stories before you run out of adventures to tell."

Silence stretches, and for the longest time the only sound is of water crashing over rocks and the occasional woodland creature. Then, she feels him next to her, much too close for the comfort that she's so strongly attempted to seclude herself into where he is concerned.

(She's failing at it, she knows she is, but she has to try, right?)

Slowly, she turns her head toward him and he's just there, in front of her, staring at her with a curious expression on his face as he reaches over to place his hand over where hers rests.

"Just because you do not see your tales as adventurous does not mean I am not equally as enraptured to hear them," he tells her, his eyes gentle and coaxing.

Emma swallows thickly, lost in the way he's looking at her, with no hope of ever being found again. Part of her thinks that she has to stop this affair before it goes too far, and another part of her is aware that she may already be too far gone.

"I don't see how," she tells him honestly with a small shrug of her shoulders.

"I know this may seem difficult for you to believe," he says, and she focuses intently on his words, trying not to think about how warm his hand is and failing to restrain her imagination from wondering what would happen if she turned her hand over. Her breath backs up into her lungs and stays there no matter how strongly she tries to force the organs to resume working. "But I find you quite fascinating. I _want_ to hear your stories, love."

The warmth from his palm on hers spreads into her arm and through her in a rush, and she can feel heat rising in her cheeks as she looks away. A rabbit scurries from one bush to another on the other side of the river, and she watches the bush for a moment while she tries to catch her breath.

"That can't be true," she whispers into the air between them. "I am just a princess of nineteen years who has never been outside of her small kingdom's boundaries and wishes that she could say the opposite. The most interesting thing about me is my parents, because they broke a curse with a kiss, and I don't want to be cared for or adored just by association with them, but then... that's the only fascinating fact about me." The words are heavy as they taint the air around them, and she hates that she's ruining their afternoon with her own discontent.

She sighs as she looks away, knowing that everything she's said is true but still hoping that maybe he _is_ being honest with her. Her heart beats on a rhythm that she is unfamiliar with as the pause lengthens, and then it stops completely when she feels his finger underneath her chin, guiding her face back toward his own.

"I swear to you," he breathes, his eyes piercing and _too much_ as he brushes his thumb over her jaw. The skin he touches is on fire, she swears, branding her with the weight of his caress."What I tell you is very much the truth."

Something catches inside her, lighting and burning so bright that she fears for a moment that she's going to cave in on herself, a collapsing fortress being reduced to ashes. She smiles, her stomach turning rapidly, and if he weren't holding her together with his gaze, she fears she'd fall apart completely. This mysterious man, so untroubled and so knowledgeable and so _beautiful_, is sweeping her off her feet and she's gets the feeling that, if he asked, she would follow him anywhere without a second thought.

Let her parents version of love and everything that says it's a bad idea be damned.

* * *

"You promised to tell me of a time when you ran away, or wanted to," Emma says after closing a story of her childhood best friend trying to talk Emma into "giving away her parent's magic", and how they learned the hard way that it does not quite work in that manner.

"Ah, I did, didn't I?" He glances over at her for a moment and then looks away. There's a pause where he stares off into the forest, and she can see contemplation on his features as he seems to ponder something. After swallowing and taking a shaky breath, he turns back to her and tries to smile. "I used to try to hide from my brother all the time. He hated it, of course, because... he always worried about me. I loved it, however, and so I was always trying to find new hiding places. One time, I saw a horse and carriage pass by us, and when it stopped near us to let the horse get a drink of water, I tried to climb up into it. I knew... I knew that if my brother did not find me, the man might would carry me away. But... our father had left a few years prior and our mother had died recently and I was young, so at the time, I didn't care the slightest."

Emma lets out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding as he stops, glancing over at her as if to gauge her reaction to his heartbreaking admission. There are many options as to what she could say, from a sympathetic apology that he had to grow up without a mother and father to a joke about him being mischievous. In the end, she settles on sliding just close enough to push her knee against his gently.

"Was your brother upset?" she asks, and his mood lightens just the slightest.

"He caught me trying to climb up into the carriage, probably because there was a woman in there who started trying to talk to me and gave away my position." Killian's smile is genuine, and it's then that Emma truly understands the affection that this man feels for his older brother. It makes absolute sense, to feel so fond of someone who had to become his parent at a young age.

Nothing is said for a while, but this silence doesn't ring loud in Emma's ears. It's easy to just sit with him and watch the world around them, letting it slowly darken until the sun begins to descend completely into the horizon. "I should probably get home," Emma says, leaning close enough so that their shoulders touch. "And you should probably find your brother and turn in for the night."

Killian nods slowly and stands, offering his hand to her once he's up. She takes it without question, and as they walk back in the direction of the docks, she holds on tight instead of letting go.

And when they part, he hesitates as he glances toward the inn where his brother said he would be. Emma swallows, her heartbeat a roar in her ears so loud that she can hardly hear herself think. She sees the turmoil in his eyes, the indecision on what he should do as they say their goodbyes. He takes a step closer, and then simply lifts her knuckles to his lips for a few burning seconds before letting her fingers slip through his own.

She can't help the disappointment that floods through her (she's foolish - she knows she is, so desperately wishing that a man she hardly knows will kiss her), but as he walks away, her hand feels much too cold without the warmth of his own against hers.

"I'll see you soon?" Her voice speaks of its own will, the question lingering in the air. He stops, turning back to her with a smile on his face.

"Aye, Princess. I will see you soon."

* * *

She doesn't tell her parents of her newfound interest in Killian Jones, the Navy Lieutenant from a neighboring ally - she doesn't tell anyone. It's her own little secret that when her parents catch her attention adrift, it's him she thinks of. It remains a mystery where her mind goes right before sleep claims her for the night. There's a newfound passion for him and all that he represents in her life at the current moment, an adventure that she so desperately wishes to experience, a passion she was not aware she could possess.

She doesn't love him - love at first sight is commonly accepted in some places, but she knows this isn't the case. However, every time she thinks of him her heart races so fast in her chest that it's difficult to breathe, so she thinks maybe she could love him.

And maybe he could love her, too.

And maybe it wouldn't be True Love if they did.

Or maybe it would.

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't matter either way.


	4. Chapter 4

Yay, chapter four a few days before my birthday! I especially loved writing this, just because my intense love for Lieutenant Killian makes it fun to get inside his head. I hope you guys like it!

* * *

"Where were you for so long?" Liam asks as Killian enters their inn room, eyebrows raised from where he sits at the small table. Killian smiles only slightly, carefully fixing his features to something resembling indifference rather than the happiness that wishes to break through.

"Just walking around, really," Killian replies much too easily, glancing around to see that their room for the night is bare minimum - two small beds and very little furniture otherwise. He shrugs it off, knowing very well that they have had worse accommodations.

Thankfully, his brother seems to believe his words ("Alright, we shall head out at dawn tomorrow, so I would recommend you get some sleep."), and lets Killian get settled in for the night with few other inquiries. In a way, it's good. In another, it gives him more time and silence than he believes he needs to think of the princess who has thoroughly captured his attention and interests.

Even the crickets are quiet, not concerned at all with distracting him.

He hasn't mentioned that he looked for her when he would come to dock at her land, remembering the first day he saw her so clearly in his mind. He had already found her fascinating, but when he slowly began to realize that she was watching him whenever she visited the shore, his intrigue only grew stronger. Why, in any world or realm, would someone so marvelous in every way choose to study him, to ponder his actions and pay attention to him? He isn't anything special, nothing deserving of her certainly.

When the opportunity to meet her had presented itself, so slim and such that he wasn't sure it would happen so perfectly again, there was no hesitation. He had to take it, and so he did the best he could to put forth an invitation, hoping that she felt as he did, that she wanted to meet her stranger just as much as he wanted to meet his.

And she had.

It's all a _bloody_ mess from there, because even so early in their forming a bond, he knows that he is already too far in to step away easily. She's beautiful, more so than any woman he's ever seen, with her long blonde locks and her open eyes that seem to stare right through him, challenging what he knows. Her heart is pure, so unbelievably pure, and though that may be in part to the manner in which she was formed, he knows that part of it is simply _her_. She has a presence about her, much like any princess, but yet he can see her yearn for adventure and for something a bit out of the ordinary.

She already is extraordinary, he thinks, but somehow, she doesn't realize it.

There's something about her, so honest and startling and magnificent, and Killian is so terrified that he'll fall in love with her so deeply that he'll never be able to climb back out. Any other circumstances would make that a good occurrence, but his heart is heavy when he thinks on it. She is, after all, a product of the strongest magic known in any realm he's ever visited.

What is he to compete with the daughter of a love so true and pure it can do anything?

Part of him wonders if he should have saved himself the trouble. He had recognized her after the first time he saw her, but pursuing her was not a necessity. Once he had discovered from random townsfolk at the docks that she was a princess born of a couple who were True Loves, he could have simply dropped his interest and kept himself out of her enticing grasp.

It sounds simple enough, but then the other part of him knows that he was a lost cause as soon as he'd seen her that first day, a flash of blonde hair and green eyes that entranced him from first glance. He'd like to say that he could simply detach himself from this woman who has shown him only kindness and purity (and yet, so much more), but the feat would be nearly impossible.

He may already be forever in her clutches.

And if he weren't so afraid of not being enough for her (True Love's spawn and a princess?), perhaps he would celebrate the fact.

But alas, that is not the case, and so as he lies in his tiny motel bed and stares at the ceiling where all he sees is her face in the dark planks of wood, he sighs and wonders how in the bloody hell he got himself into such a beautiful, _enchanting_, complicated mess.

He thinks about her more often than he would care to admit, and it slowly begins to get harder and harder to convince his brother that he is simply daydreaming or suffering from lack of sleep.

(_If_ he isn't sleeping, that, too, is completely her doing.)

"You've rarely had these issues before, Killian," Liam says, narrowing his eyes in a suspicious way that forces Killian to focus increasingly more in order to lessen his brother's wariness.

And even then, the struggle is one that takes more out of him than he expects.

He just can't stop himself from wondering what he'll say the next time he sees her (he should let her go now while it's easy- except even now it wouldn't be), or where they'll meet when they escape once again (if he sees her, he needs to end their dalliance before it's much too late).

(It's already too late.)

From what he's already learned, he knows that she is not skeptical of her parents and their True Love and the way they handle being king and queen of a land, but that perhaps she wishes they could simply be her parents instead. He can tell that she is curious to know what else is outside of her kingdom and the hold of her mother and father. He sees that despite being a bit discontent with the life she currently lives, she is still just and noble and everything a princess should be, when the circumstances call for it.

The traits he has been exposed to are admirable, and he wonders if he would feel the same of all the aspects of her personality.

(He has a sneaking suspicion that he would.)

His mind is in a constant battle with his heart, which yearns to know more about her, to dig deeper into the soul of this charming woman. He wants to know all of her dreams, all of her hopes, all of her past. He craves to go further into the heart of her, to see how she thinks and the way she views the world.

He wants to know everything about her even though he is very well aware that he shouldn't.

A hand waves in front of his face, knocking Killian out of his stupor. "Killian Jones, I do not know where it is your mind keeps going, but it needs to stop while we are on duty."

"Apologies, brother. Please." Killian gestures for his brother to speak, pushing thoughts of Emma to the back of his mind.

(For now.)

"We will now be headed to the Enchanted Forest again to take inventory of their military supplies and the like," Liam tells him. "As is routine for the allied lands in this realm."

Killian's chest constricts almost painfully in his chest, and he (with difficulty) keeps his breathing even and his face still as he responds. "I'll prepare the ship."

As soon as he turns from his brother, a smile breaks out onto his features, all insecurities and doubts and _"I really shouldn't"_s fleeing his mind as he once again finds himself trapped in the treacherous grasp of his beautiful princess before he's even seen her again.

And_ gods above_, he knows he'll never escape.

(No matter how much he _needs_ to, he doesn't ever _want_ to.)

* * *

The life Killian Jones has led is not as awe inspiring as Emma seems to believe, but strangely enough, it's what he finds himself thinking of as they set sail toward her land.

After their mother had died, he and Liam had mutually decided that they would join the Navy for their kingdom, and they easily picked up more and more recognition by doing extremely well. Now, they simply did running jobs more often than more dangerous jobs, though they had experienced their fair share of those in order to get to where they were. In a manner of speaking, it kept their minds occupied enough not to miss the life they could hardly remember anymore, with two parents to tend to them and the family eating together every evening.

They'd been on their own for so long now, relying only on each other, that any life they had before their current one is distant, collecting dust in the back corners of their minds.

(But never completely gone.)

Killian thinks it's fascinating that they found comfort in rogue missions and dangerous journeys, trading a life of ease for one much less quaint. They had, however, taking each rush as something to grasp onto in lieu of having anything else to attach themselves to. There was no home, no mother to welcome them after a hard day's work, no father to be proud of them. Leaving had been easier, and they felt that putting their focus into something that gained honor was the best option for them.

So, that's what they'd done.

It hadn't replaced their runaway father or deceased mother by any means, but it gave them a ship to call their own, a crew of men at their side, and a life where they would never, no matter the circumstance, lose their good form, like their father before them. It was all they had left some days, other than the company of a brother, and they would not have that torn away from them, too.

He had hid it from every soul other than his brother, but when they'd first set sail, Killian had wound up seasick for the first few days. Staying below deck on most occasions had kept his secret, and with time, he had grown accustomed to the rocking of the ship. Eventually, the sea even became a comfort to him, because despite its constant movement and continuous changing, it was one of the most steady and consistent parts of his life.

(Other than Liam, of course.)

The mere thought of ever having to live without his brother shakes him, and no matter what they do he always worries that the one person he has left will be snatched away from him as well. Liam has been his parent for what seems to be ages, and if that man were ever lost, Killian knows he would be, too. He isn't sure what he would do, but one thing that he is certain of is that he does not want to find out.

"Killian," his brother's voice calls. "We're nearing the shore."

A smile tugs up the corners of his lips. "I shall be up in a moment," he returns, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before sighing and climbing up the ladder to the deck in order to prepare the ship for docking, just as he's done countless times.

Familiarity like that is something he thinks he'll never take for granted.

* * *

Consistency is something that Killian appreciates, because after everything he's lived through, consistency means a plan. Consistency equates to the well known, and after a life full of unpleasant surprises, habit and routine are welcomed.

Yet, every time he catches sight of Emma's face, with her beautiful smile and green eyes, tiny nose and dented chin, his heart races in a way he is most certainly not familiar with (but can't help liking). And as much as that terrifies him, to be in unaccustomed waters, his being craves to see her, talk to her, know her.

He's in such bloody trouble, but he swears that an upset has never been more rewarding.

As he walks onto the dock, his eyes scan for her and he doesn't see her right off, which makes his chest deflate just the slightest. _Perhaps it's for the best_ rings around in his mind, and the possibility that the voice is correct is more likely than it being incorrect, but he still feels disappointment flood through him like the worst of monsoons.

He thinks maybe he shouldn't be comparing his disappointment to a storm, but instead paint _her_ as the heavy rain and wind, knocking him off of his feet and leaving him little air to breathe with simply her presence. Trying not to think of her, he follows his brother as they go about their business, doing what they had set out to do. Liam seems to be moving swiftly and Killian can't help but watch the horizon, hoping that the sun may set before they finish.

When it seems as if that won't happen, Killian makes a quick decision, clearing his throat to ask, "Liam, do you suppose we could stay docked here for the night? We have no immediate concerns to get to tomorrow, correct?"

His brother raises an eyebrow, his lips pursed as he assesses Killian. Eventually, he shrugs. "I am well aware there is something going on with you in these parts, but as long as it does not affect our work, I can look the other way. We'll leave within an hour of dawn tomorrow, understood?"

"Aye, brother," Killian replies, smiling widely at Liam and helping him finish up the last of their duties rather swiftly.

He hopes that by now, his princess has seen his ship docked, and that maybe she waits for him near the shore. Maybe it isn't the smartest thing he's ever done, but maybe (just maybe) that's alright.

Maybe it isn't supposed to be.

* * *

It certainly doesn't help his case much when her face lights up at the sight of him, her eyes widening and a smile breaking out across her features. She's his own personal siren, the one monster he thought he had been lucky enough to avoid, only to find one all too set on wrecking his world.

Even if she doesn't realize it.

He returns her smile, walking over and giving a little bow as he approaches. She casts a glance around them, seeming to scan the crowd for something in particular. After a moment, she nods and asks him if their place by the river will do for today.

_Their_ place.

His heart is pounding too quickly in his chest for him to say anything but a simple yes.

Unlike their first meeting by the river, this time they walk together, side by side, with the warmth of her body enticing him. Once, while they walk, her hand brushes against his, which makes a spark run up his arm and through his body.

"What brings you here today?" she asks once they are seated on their stones, and her voice is casual, the question simply her expressing curiosity for what he does and where he's been. She smiles at him when he catches her eye, and he has to smile back because perhaps the question is being asked because she genuinely wants to know.

Maybe she really cares.

So he tells her what their job had entailed and she listens intently, asking further inquiries and smiling at him as if she has no other care in the world, as if her entire day is made up entirely of his presence and his words. She asks for another story as a gust of wind blows a piece of her long, blonde hair into her face, and before he's even processed the movement, he's reached up to tuck it back behind her ear. Her breath hitches in time with his own, and he's sure that every being in the entire Enchanted Forest can hear the hammering of his heart.

She swallows and then gives him a shaky smile, and he lowers his hand before he truly does something unwise. He lets his gaze find her lips for only the briefest of moments, giving himself the smallest fantasy of what it would feel like to kiss her, _really_ kiss her. He's kissed a handful of women in his lifetime, but none have held the captivation of the woman in front of him.

He can't help wondering if caring this strongly for her would make her kiss even sweeter.

But kissing her isn't smart.

She's a princess, a product of True Love, and the fairest maiden he's ever laid his eyes on.

A simple affair turns into a much worse situation if he lets himself kiss her.

But when she tells him a story of her mother's best friend, Red, who often watched Emma when she was little, he finds himself leaning toward her and wishing he could listen to her talk forever. He wants to sit beside her as she speaks on and on, telling him all of her stories no matter how uneventful she believes they are. Her eyes shine with something that he knows must be rare, a beautiful mix of kindness, compassion, humor, and all that is good in any soul.

Hers is special, and he can see it so achingly clearly that he's sure she's put a spell on him that nothing can undo.

She's as much of an angel as she is a siren.

He's in monumentally over his head, struggling to keep himself above the inconsistent waters, but every time he looks at her, he swears he's closer and closer to drowning.


End file.
